I can’t think
Because I hear the noise
And the noise interrupts my thoughts
So I play music
To cover up the noise
And the music creates more noise
In my head
I’m not safe
From my thoughts
With all this noise
I will never hear them coming

Before I die, I want to write the greatest poem ever written
I want to perform it at my last slam
I want to be remembered as making words come to life
Giving stanza's room to breath, and syllables a chance to dance.
I want to lose myself on a mic stand to be the cause of death
I want to leave earth knowing I was heard knowing that I listened
Knowing I inspired an audience
When I die, do not write me a eulogy
Don't write a poem about death,
Because people are sick about hearing them
And also, my soul can not die.
When you visit my grave do not cry.
Unless they are products of laughter from remember our goofy conversations
Do not sob, instead recite the greatest poem ever
Unless it's not one of mine, then don't do it.
And laugh some more and do it any ways.
When I'm dead, don't leave me flowers, leave me haikus.
Write somebody a love poem, tell a stranger they are beautiful, and crack a joke once in a while.
When I die, I want you to write the greatest poem ever written.
And I want you to know I would of loved it.
I want you to get 8.9's and laugh '*** you know I would of given you a 10.
When I die, I want you to keep writing.
Allow me to live on through you.
Let my ghost tip toe across your poetry
And memories find refuge in your words
When I die, write a poem better than any one of mine,
And don't admit that to any one but yourself.
Take time to look at stars because you learned from me
That they are the only thing out of this world that is
beautiful
except for our poetry.
When I'm died remember the words, "I love you" and their affect
I love you can give someone the momentum to get out of bed in the morning
I love you can put one foot in front of another
I love you, before I die, I will tell you
I love you, I love you, I love you
Before I die, I love you
Don't remember the fragility of life
But the perseverance of the human spirit
I love you
There's a reason why you carried on after I'm gone
I love you.
I'm sorry, I didn't get a chance to say
I love you
Before I die.

There is a rose as red as blood
With stem a shining gold hue
That I had found in forbidden lands
And longed to pick for you

This unmatched wonder entranced me
Captivating my mortal soul
But as I reached for this piece of loveliness
I was caught by silver thorns and let go

It was as if a fairytale
That was so unreal; you'd believe that it's true
And I felt my blood run down my fingertips
As red as the rose I tried picking for you

Had Midas been no fable?
Was this his prized jewel?
Had he set this royal majestic object
To inspire poets, lovers, and even fools

So many questions laid in my mind
Both of the rose and soil in which it grew
For it was richer than any I'd set my wandering foot on
And birthed the rose I tried to pick for you

A dewy mist covered the land
The sun shining just enough to light my way
It sang, this valley, this forbidden Eden
And I swear to return to it some day

And that ever enchanted flower
That shines so eternally new
Still left the imprint on my fingertips
With which lie on the hands which I hold you

And my greatest grand children will hear this tale
Of their greatest grandfather's memorable morn
And of how his journey to forbidden lands
Led to the rose of silver thorns

And if someday you find yourself there
With skies of an unmatched blue
I pray you see that flower with silver and red
From the blood of a lover who tried to pick it for you

"Angels can't be black, stupid" she said to me
And she said it so matter-of-factly
To the eight year old boy with a figurine
That his mother gave him, looking so kindly
And I didn't know of her words nonsensicle
But everywhere I looked, in books, store windows and tv specials
I saw that angels in serenity with floating halos
And all of them were white

So I was down, not surprisingly
Because think of how mad or sad you'd be
To find Heaven's hosts had no minorities
And that an angel could not be made of me
And angrier I became as on tears I choke
To be the **** of that little girl's joke
And to find all the words my mother spoke
Might be only lies and fairy tales

And with my head planted on my desk
The angel next to me did rest
As my teacher saw my distress
And question my obvious bitterness
I shrugged her off and her query grew
"Nik Bland, what in the world's eating you?"
And I told her what that girl and the whole world knew
About the fable of my figurine

And she listened to my childlike woes
As tears streamed down, sobs did grow
And she nodded as I said I did not know
A single place in the bible where minorities showed
A trace and she went up to the class
And spoke that, scientifically, in the past
It's been shown that the brown skinned and blacks
Were the colors of the first of the human race

So that sparked a fire within my mind
To realize that if humankind
Found a way to travel back in time
They might be seeing an ethnic Adam and Eve
And she showed me on the map the Middle East
And my heart rate slightly increased
To see it held Israel and Bethlehem, doubts then ceased
As I saw the mixed skin color of their people

And as the class pondered this, she came to me
And told me very quietly
Of her and her Christianity
And of Jesus, whose chose his mixed coloring
And with tears in her eyes, she put that angel in my hands
And to me that I must understand
That God looks past the color of the man
For He painted us all

And Christian or not, you must admittedly
Say that the world is a piece of artistry
That is incomparable to any man has in the making
And that we are all living here equally
And show we pass on, some soon than most
But with belief in Father, Son, and Holy Ghost
That eight year old boy could proudly boast
About the angel, so serene... and black

IDK if you read much my poems but
when I drop links on friends their usually raw
and as they are just public; still full of typos and all
kinds of unreadable typo mixing's I know; but before I try
to hard with these sort of things and come too far out of trance
and fear losing essence; it's a quandary of course a tug of war sure
though as I can I try to get back through and read as others would,
need and likely do; too my eyes ain't so acute, then still I admit and still say
English just ain't my best language in the usual way!!! U kinda understand as
I see be a true Red Letter Man; too overly fundamental for that typical say and
Bull of Bulls ah huh jive Turkey too but all inclusive must be; see I try I am at work
very hard at this love joy and play; yes long yes a while so too a bit to cooped and overly
riled but for so many reasons realities and overly under and over due seasons here whereabouts;

Only Heaven Is Willing yet Sharing Our X-ing it out for a spell...

Try as much as will and dare can breathe
believe we you me all we are is Love and X-mass
is like a Great Big Kiss to and fro the Mass of God's
All Loving Being in All of Creation to His Mass of Our
Beings Sweet, Dear Babes in the Woods Wooed by Even
His Her's Is Trees!!